


Needle & Thread

by glim



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: F/F, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen watches Morgana work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needle & Thread

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Porn Battle VII using the prompt _Gwen/Morgana, needlework_.

Morgana sits by the window, head bent so her face is in shadow, tendrils of dark hair curling over her neck down to her collarbone, a few of the longer wisps just touching her breasts.

The light falls over her hands. Her clever, slim hands, their softness and whiteness betraying their strength. They move with skill and craft over the length of linen in her lap, smoothing the material and then pricking it out in color.

Gwen watches. Gwen always watches, half-mesmerized by the repeated motion, half-captivated by the curve of Morgana's neck, completely taken in by the way Morgana's hands move over the needlework similar to the way they move over Gwen's skin.

Careful. Strong. Meticulous. Attentive. And so, so beautiful, with their careful strength and generous attention.

Gwen watches, the tip of her tongue against her lips, her hands resting above the garments she ought to be folding. Watches and remembers what it feels like to have Morgana's fingers trail long lines, as fine as any silken thread, down her body, what it's like to have her hands cup Gwen's breasts or palm the curve of her hipbone, to feel Morgana and then feel nothing but the twist of pleasure.

Morgana turns away from the window and Gwen flushes warm over her face and chest. The barest hint of a smile appears at the corner of Morgana's mouth before she turns back to her work and Gwen glances down at her own hands, listening as Morgana takes up needle and thread again.

The prick of the needle and the pull of the thread, the sharp, sudden jab followed by the long, slow drawing out. The sounds are sharp, then soft, then sharp again, an Gwen looks up once more.

A firmer jab, and Morgana draws her hand back from the needle, though it's Gwen who gives a quiet _oh! _and imagines the touch of the needle's point on skin and the taste of the blood that beads on Morgana's fingertip.

A million tiny pinpricks move over Gwen's body, down her spine, in the palms of her hands, between her thighs. Something quivers inside her and all she wants, in that one moment of sunlight and red blood, before Morgana brings the fingertip to her mouth, is to feel the jab and the pull of the needle against her own skin. To feel Morgana push against – _inside_ – her and draw out the longing, the need, twist it like the parti-colored thread until Gwen is twisted and panting, and there are lips, tongues, fingertips, and the press of a soft, strong hand between her thighs.

"Come here, Gwen. See what work I've done this morning."

Gwen gasps again. She is warm and needy inside, and sunlight falls all over Morgana, warming her skin and glinting off her hair, and Gwen can't help but gasp.

Morgana turns, smiles more fully this time, and spreads a rose garden over her lap when Gwen appears at her side. The needle and thread remain held in one hand while the other reaches for Gwen's wrist to tug her down closer.

"Flowers always make me think of you," Morgana murmurs, as if it's the most delightful secret she knows. She leans in to kiss Gwen just behind the ear and smiles against her neck. "My dear Gwen…"


End file.
